


Remind Me How to Breathe

by scribblemyname



Series: Be Compromised 2014 Promptathon [23]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Community: be_compromised, Established Relationship, F/M, Grieving, Loss, Miscarriage, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-12 06:13:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2098647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblemyname/pseuds/scribblemyname
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They used to sleep in Natasha's suite more than Clint's. She had been more willing to spend time there and make it her own, and Clint had needed her stability more than his own doubts after the Battle of New York.</p><p>They haven't slept in Natasha's suite in two months.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remind Me How to Breathe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [geckoholic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckoholic/gifts).



> Prompt by geckoholic: [I know you'd die for me, but would you live for me too?](http://be-compromised.livejournal.com/412023.html?thread=7838583#t7838583)

In the field, nothing had changed. Clint covered Natasha with thorough precision; Natasha fought beside him seamlessly in hand-to-hand. If the other Avengers only saw them on the field together, heard the way they interacted while working, they would never think that anything was different.

But off the field, sliding out of gear and breaking down, even passing each other in the halls of the Avengers Tower or sitting on the couch during movie nights, something painful and nameless stuttered between them. Their silence seemed less of a bridge and more of real distance.

Polite, sideways inquiries yielded no useful answers. Direct questioning—"Hey, what's wrong, you two? Did you fight?"—earned only unreadable expressions and continued silence. They didn't avoid each other, but neither did they seek each other out.

"And let's face it, cap," Tony added after his latest failed attempt to draw them out, "that means something's the matter, and for the sake of the team, we shouldn't let it lie."

While it didn't affect the team, Steve told him to let it lie.

—

They used to sleep in Natasha's suite more than Clint's. She had been more willing to spend time there and make it her own, and Clint had needed her stability more than his own doubts after the Battle of New York.

They haven't slept in Natasha's suite in two months.

—

Clint silently claimed the shower first. Natasha moved out toward the dresser and fished out some nightclothes worth wearing. They hadn't stopped sharing a bedroom for all they had stopped talking. She needed to feel close to him, whatever else they lost—or didn't.

She hesitated as tension gripped her throat. She needed to hold onto that. They weren't going to lose each other. They weren't. She would make sure of it.

This had been happening lately, the sudden sharp pang of loss, the fear that she would lose Clint too. Natasha stood, leaning hard on the dresser as she forced herself back to a calm. She wasn't going to lose him. She wasn't.

"Nat?"

She looked up, startled more by Clint's ability to startle her than by his sudden presence. She shook her head. "Just thinking."

He studied her until she wanted to squirm so reached for her clothes instead.

"I need a shower."

He took a breath as though deciding whether to speak.

Natasha hesitated for a moment, wondering if he would break their stalemate or not. He backed up a step to let her pass. She did.

—

Natasha had been officially 'on assignment' and staying out of combat situations. She was safely in her second trimester when they risked buying a crib and getting their hopes up.

The crib was still standing in Natasha's suite. If they ever got rid of it, maybe they could walk in her suite again without shattering. If they ever got rid of it, it would feel too much like giving up hope.

—

"Tasha." Clint's voice greeted her when she slid into bed beside him, low and rough with sleep.

Natasha hesitated, then leaned into him until he put his arms around her and tucked her in close.

"I won't lose you," she whispered. "I—" She wanted to tell him she _couldn't_ lose him, so she'd always be there, she'd always have his back, and he didn't need to worry about the concerned looks darting around their team because she was fine on the field, she was _fine_ , and they were going to be fine.

Clint hushed her gently and kissed her hair. He nudged her head up so they could look at each other. "Tasha," he said.

Suddenly her heart was beating harder as she read his tone and his eyes and realized he'd been working out what he wanted to say and whatever it was, she couldn't bear to feel the weight of it.

"Clint." She started backing up, but he held her firmly.

"I know you'd die for me," he said matter-of-factly. It was true, they were partners and they had each other's back, but he didn't leave it there. He leaned in and breathed, "I need you to live for me. Please."

She started trembling, softly at first, then she was shaking and the first hot tears wet her cheeks. She tried to fight it back, but he was holding her like she was his anchor and he needed her as desperately as she needed him. It was too much, remembering the last time they'd held each other like this, choking on sobs and misery and loss.

"Clint." She gripped him tighter, fingers digging into his arms, uncaring of the bruises that would form.

He held her tight as the dam broke and she pressed her face into his chest again and wept for all they had lost. She wanted to live, she wanted to do more than stave off his death and her misery, but she didn't know how.

In the field, nothing had changed. In the field, she didn't have to feel.

—

Pepper smiled when Natasha appeared in the communal kitchen to dig out her teapot from a locked cupboard.

"I kept it safe for you," Pepper said.

Natasha wanted to bring up her walls and her masks at the reminder that she had been anything but herself lately in the Tower, but she made herself leave that fragile feeling inside her and give a tiny smile in return. "Thank you."

She put on the tea she had stopped drinking each morning when she found out she was pregnant and made two cups, one for herself and one for Bruce. She doubled the coffee grounds in the maker and poured Clint a mugful for when he came in. He'd be coming in. They were trying again, taking those first steps toward something like normalcy.

Tony came in drinking coffee and judging from the brightness in his eyes, he'd inhaled multiple cups before Natasha had made herself roll out of bed. He nodded a greeting and poured himself a refill, then nearly spewed it in the sink.

He stared at what had already been a strong pot. "What did you do to my coffee?"

Natasha's smile widened to at least noticeable. Stark had apparently gotten used to Clint's absence. She sipped her tea and slid the other cup a little closer to Bruce across the counter.

Bruce looked at it, then at her, then looked pleased as he recognized the action. "Glad you're feeling better."

She wasn't, but she was trying.

Clint slid behind her and wrapped one arm around her waist as he reached for his mug. "Thanks," he said softly.

Natasha looked at him for a long moment, and for the first time that morning, her smile felt real.


End file.
